The Morning After
by Giacinta2
Summary: Episode tags to 12.11. Regarding Dean. Chapter ONE:-Dean wakes up in the morning, but he's not alone. Chapter TWO:- Rowena lends a helping hand..n. Chapter THREE:- Sam is still terribly upset about what happened to Dean. Warning for curse words and brotherly hugging.
1. Chapter 1

I was in heaven  
I'd never been touched like this; gentle sapient caresses which caused waves of pure bliss to flow through my tense body, my ears shivering with delight.

With a satisfied snuffle I snuggled in closer, arching my back, hoping for more, and as if my wishes had been intercepted and understood, the glorious petting was resumed.  
I never wanted it to end.

But I understood my wish was an empty one, I'd never felt such a thrill before and I knew I'd never feel it again, it was unique.  
When my body was gently lifted and the warm comforting heat I'd been huddled into disappeared, to be replaced with the chill morning air, I felt bereft. But the memory, if nothing else, would remain.

I was abandoned gently on the grass as the giant stood up.

"Sorry, little dude. Gotta call Sammy, " Dean said, placing the rabbit down on the ground. "Waking up like a bum in the woods wasn't how I imagined my night out to end."

The end


	2. Rowena

If asked, I couldn't have pinpointed the exact moments during which the Winchester boys and I went from complete strangers to enemies, then ultimately to wary allies.

But it'd happened.

That Sam Winchester had trusted me, or perhaps been just desperate enough to call me to his hexed brother's side, was a sign of the changing times.

:

I was following in Fergus' footsteps.

For the King of Hell to be hanging out with hunters was unique. In all my three hundred years of earthly existence, I'd never borne witness to such a thing.

Sam and Dean had my son wrapped around their little fingers—Moose and Squirrel my ass!

The Winchesters were special, there was no doubting that!

:

I could've refused to help, but I'd learned it was better to keep on the Winchesters' good side.

For all their pretty faces and … delectable bodies... they were more dangerous than a shoal of piranha.

I hadn't stayed alive for all this time by being a careless fool.

Anyway, there was a handy book of ancient magic for the taking, that is if I could distract the brothers' attention from it long enough to snatch it.

I'd try my best.

:

I gotta say though, when Dean got his memory back and I saw the love shining from their eyes as they gazed adoringly at each other, my usually steel-walled heart gave a tiny sentimental twitch.

I too had once loved another human being, though I doubted to the point Sam and Dean loved one another, seeing as I'd cut Oscar's throat; and for a split-second, I envied the Winchesters.

To love and care for each other as they did was something special to bear witness to, but I was glad in the end that I was an unfeeling bitch.

:

Love makes you weak, and to survive you must be strong.

There's always the exception that proves the rule of course, and that's the Winchesters. Always ready to die for each other, to face any enemy including Death, and triumph, all in the name of the love they share.

:

Well Dean got his memory back, Sam got his brother back, and I got a taxi ride home with NO spell-book, thanks to that long drink of Winchester water!

The end


	3. Chapter 3

"Aw, come on, Sammy. Where's your sense of humour?"

"There's humour and there's not fucking funny," Sam replied bitchily, his face stonily expressionless.

:

With an aggrieved sigh, Dean drew the Impala into the parking lot of a tiny mall, last building on the outskirts of the town, before turning towards Sam and studying his brother's tense features.

"Sam..."

"No, Dean! I had to witness you losing who you are, piece by little piece. It was almost worse than watching you die..."

"Hey, nothing could be worse than that... " Dean declared with a grin, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

:

Sam pursed his lips and gave a sad huff. "You were fading away, forgetting everything. If we hadn't gotten hold of the spell-book, you'd have died in my arms without even remembering who or what we were.  
And just to top it off, you made me think the curse was still on-going, that Rowena hadn't been successful in removing it..  
I went through hell again in that moment."

:

Dean rolled his eyes, before pulling his recalcitrant brother into his arms. "Such a fucking drama queen, dude. I swear the older you get the more stiff-necked you become."

"All this emo-crap for a tiny little prank," Dean grunted, pulling Sam's head down against his chest. "What do I have to do to beg forgiveness."

But Sam didn't answer, and Dean felt a suspicious humidity dampen his shirt front.  
"Aw, Sammy," he murmured, tightening his right arm around his huge baby brother. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't understand how much you were stressed out by this. Come on, it's okay. I'm here and I'm never gonna leave you."

"You can't be sure of that, Dean," Sam whimpered against his big brother's flannel. "It could happen in an instant. This time you were lucky you still had enough savvy to call me, but what if the spell had been instantaneous and you'd woken up with a full-on mind-wipe? I might never have found you, or worse that witch could have killed you outright."

"Sammy, dude; this is the job. The same thing could happen with you... "  
Dean hesitated, unable to find the right words to comfort his baby brother, simply because there were none.  
Truth was they could disappear and be killed without the other knowing how or why. Hunting was a life of continuous danger and courting of death.

:

"Well, it sucks," Sam said, his voice wobbly like that of a child, completely belying his thirty-three years.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "But Sam, we've got the supernatural at our fingertips. We can take precautions if it'll make you feel better."  
Sam lifted his head, eyes damp, "Whatcha' mean? How? "

"We could cast a location/binding spell, one that lets us keep track of each other. Something that rings like an alarm in our head when we find ourselves on our own and in deep shit."

Sam gazed at him, completely taken aback.  
Of course the younger man knew about these types of spells, but he'd never even dared suggest such a thing to Dean who had a hatred for anything to do with witches.

"You'd do that for me?"  
Dean shrugged. "If it helps keep your girlie emotions under control."

:

God, how he loved his brother, a love composed of everything they were to each other, of all they'd been through, of a closeness of body and soul impossible to define.

If a spell was the price to pay to keep all this safe, then Dean would pay it with a smile on his face.

:

Around them the Impala's engine seemed to purr its approval. She was their home, and privileged to be it.  
The end


End file.
